Burn It To the Ground
by The Almighty Ro
Summary: Seeing as it IS his birthday, the Bad Touch Trio decide it's time to get drunk with our favorite Prussian and wreak a little havoc...much to Germany's chagrin.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own, claim to own, or pretend to own the characters involved in this work of fiction. But it sounds like one hell of a party. Also, huzzah for first post of the new year! :D

**Please note:** First Hetalia fic ever. I'm not asking you all to be kind, but do drop me a line and let me know what can be done better. This is totally scary for me.

Enjoy, su!

**Burn It To the Ground**

Germany considered his brother from his seat across the ruined living room, who sat naked and grinning sheepishly from his spot in a pile of blankets. He should have expected this; should have prepared for it actually. But he hadn't been the harm in letting Prussia go out with his friends for his birthday-especially when he had been so down about it being just him and Gilbird again this year (although he failed to see the problem in spending a quiet eveing home with one's family; he certainly preferred it to...this).

So he'd let France and Spain, who were also currently naked and sprawled passed out along the floor and couch, take him out.

Right then.

"...Dare I ask?" Germany finally said once he'd found his voice.

If anything, Prussia's grin widened even more-to shit-eating-proportions he'd heard Austria state once. Germany prepared for the oncoming headache. "So like, it was so awesome...!"

* * *

Prussia slammed down a fist full of fifties on the bar, grinning that ear-spitting grin he was known for. The bartender could already tell the man was wasted, but waited for the order with all the tranquility of a bomb technician; it was going to be a long night indeed. "Give us a bottle of your best tequila and some shot glasses!" he crowed over the metal band playing in the background.

"Mon ami, why must you order such swill on this most joyous day?" France chided behind him, only slightly less intoxicated than his friend. "You should be drinking something finer and more suited to palletes such as ours."

The recently procured bottle was waved in his face so wildly that the blonde had to take a wobbly step back.

"I ain't drinkin' no more 'o that cat piss Frenchie," he growled. "'Sides, it's my birthday an' I'll drink what ever I fucking want-and I want tequila." Prussia demonstrated the seriousness of his words by pouring himself a shot and downing it like a champ; France guessed it was because he had a liver made of iron.

"Here, here!" Spain cheered once his own shot was thrust at him; he downed it in much the same way.

Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, France snatched his own shot glass from Prussia's waiting hand and joined the party.

Ah, the joys of peer preassure...

* * *

"So you went to a bar...already drunk...and got drunker," Germany said more than asked with a sturdy frown.

His brother nodded vigorously. "Hell yeah!"

There was something terribly off about this. "If I may ask...what did you drink before heading out last night?"

Prussia's eyes clouded over in thought before he perked up. "That bottle of whiskey America sent us for Christmas back in December."

_"You drank the Crown?"_

* * *

At somewhere around midnight, the sound of shattering glass rent the air.

"Fucking got it!" Prussia crowed and thrust his hand out at Spain. "That was the last light on the street. Pay up you bastard."

Spain mumbled something foul at him in Spanish while he dug through his pockets, paying the birthday boy his due. "Last time I bet against you in anything."

He went ignored as Prussia squinted down the now dark street in an attempt to locate France. Hazy vision aside, it was kind of difficult to see him from this far down the street now that they'd kicked out every light. "You too France!"

There was a strange sort of nasally giggle from behind him and suddenly Prussia found his vital regions seized by a VERY familar set of hands. He gave a girlish sort of yelp that he would never admit to sober and punched France in the face after some drunken manuevering.

"What the hell man?"

France giggled again from his spot on the ground while Spain used their albino friend as a means of keeping steady. He squinted in the darkness at the blonde. "Why is France naked?"

"I do believe the question is why am I never NOT naked, wouldn't you say?" came the Frenchman's reply.

Prussia rolled his eyes and took a swig from the nearly empty bottle of Crown they'd swiped from West's liqour cabinet, smacking himself in the teeth. He cursed foully and threw the bottle at the lamp post. "That fucking bottle just bit me!"

* * *

Germany stared at his brother in what could only be muted horror. His mouth flopped uselessly for several while he tried to find his voice and reorganize his thoughts. During that time, Spain had managed to roll awake and was blinking blearily at the ceiling; he too was naked, but at least he'd managed to drag his jeans home with him. They were currently somewhere out on the front lawn.

"You vandalized public property?" he said at last. The littering was a minor offense at this point and completely excusable except..."And committed public indecency?"

Prussia waved a hand at him dissmisively. "No way West. That was just France."

Aside the fact that part of Berlin was probably in chaos at this point, Germany was at least partially relieved. Vandalism could be fixed. No one would ever have to know that it was the brother of a German diplomat and he could save some face; not even any of his fellow nations outside the ones in this room would ever know. That sorted out, he let go of a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding.

"At first," Spain intoned dreamily and smiled.

* * *

The three nations were streaking down the Landwehrkanal stark naked and shrieking like demons at the top of their lungs. The January air was crisp and cold, hardly weather for this type of romping through the city, but after robbing a little liqour store a half hour ago, they had enough liquid courage to keep them happy until the sun rose. Of course it was mostly just Prussia drinking anything in sight, but the other two had managed to take anything they wanted as well.

Like a fine bottle of Cabernet-Sauvignon Blanc that France had been delighted to find and now as nursing like a life line...

"Dude!" the albino cried, pointing at a terrified morning jogger who had paused mid-step to gape at them. "The hell are you staring at? Never seen anyone celebrating their birthday before?"

The jogger attempted to turn around and head back the way she'd come; they wouldn't come after her. They were too uncoordinated! Unfortunately she hadn't counted on France, the super perv.

_"Mon, n'est-ce pas une chose assez peu. Je me demande si l's'étend à chaque centimètre de toi ..."_ he murmured in her ear once caught her. One hand wandered too far down her sweatshirt and the poor girl shrieked and peppersprayed him before taking off.

Prussia howled with laughter and had to clutch the edge of the bridge to stay upright while Spain hid his chuckling behind his hand. Eventually they went to their moaning friend's aid and helped him over to the divider.

"Mein Gott, that was fucking priceless France! Seriously the best birthday gift you could have given me."

Blinded, France could only guess which direction the albino's voice had come from. But from the sound of German curses, he assumed he'd given the right nipple a harsh twist. "I am so glad you are enjoying yourself. Could you be a dear and find a way to clean this from my beautiful face?"

There was no warning before his nose and mouth filled with water and he realized they'd pushed him into the Spree. Seconds later he came up, sputtering and still basically blind, but at least the awful burning had subsided some. Two spalshed echoed in the early morning air, preceded only by twin yells of , "All-in, balls out!"

* * *

At this point in the story Germany doubted even his cavernous patience could hold out; Prussia and his friends had streaked through most of Berlin, sexually assaulted a civilian, jumped off a bridge into the Spree IN THE MIDDLE OF JANUARY, vandalized more than just a few lamp posts if the radio news report on his alarm clock earlier was any indication, and robbed a liquor store. Somehow he wondered if it could any worse, a thought that horrified him, and so he decided not to ask. Instead, he skipped right to the end.

"So how did the three of you manage to get yourselves back here?"

Spain and Prussia exchanged empty glances, apparently just as perplexed as the German. "Good question. Spain, do you remember what we did after we burnt that house to the ground?"

Germany recoiled in horror.

"Oh don't be such a pussy West; the place was abandonned," his brother assured him flippantly.

Slightly ill, the blonde added arson to the list of offenses the three had committed.

"I believe I can answer that question," France croaked from his spot on the couch; he'd passed out at an odd angle when they got home and was hanging half on and half off the back, neck cocked to the side.

* * *

Carjacking.

That was all there was to it; Prussia had hotwired a car and clambored into the back with Spain so that France could drive (he was the least shit-faced, believe it or not). The situation was of course a ticking time bomb, so it was no small wonder that they crashed two blocks from Germany's house. From there they'd hoofed it, flinging empty bottles at houses along the way.

When they finally did make it back to the house, however, they wound themselves without a way to get in (Prussia's house key was still in his pants, both lost somewhere in the heart of Berlin). Unable to use the conventional way, Spain had jimmied open a window after flinging his jeans somewhere in the bushes and helped the other two in. It was a small wonder that they hadn't woken Germany up with all the noise they'd made, even with all the loud shushing and giggling, but eventually they settled in the living room where they drank until the night was gone.

And then proceeded to pass out.

* * *

"It was the best night ever," Prussia told his brother seriously.

Personally Germany couldn't see it, but thanked his lucky stars that none of them had gotten caught. Caustiously he ran through the list of offenses they'd somehow managed to compile in one night, wincing when he calculated the cost of damage. The public property could be fixed...the peace of mind of his citizens could not. They'd be lucky if none of the innocent bystanders had reported them to the police.

He made a mental note to check the police reports later before letting his brother and his friends out of the house again.

During all this, the three vigilantes were yammering away like a trio of teenage girls after their first party.

"Dude, we should so do this again next year."

"Si, and maybe next year I will bring my own tequila?"

A snort. "Fuck no, that shit makes me bat-shit crazy. Bring something else."

"You two have no class and no taste," France added with a dramatic sigh.

Prussia snorted. "And you got no shirt."

"A minor detail, I assure you."

Germany's patience snapped like a piece elastic pulled too tight and everyone could almost hear it as he surged to his feet in a rage. "NO," he said so forcefully that there was no room for argument. "You either drink here or not at all. At least I can account for all the damage you cause if you stay in...do you have any idea how long it will take to fix what you destroyed? It will take me MONTHS to put everything to rights again!"

"Weeest~!" his brother whined. "That's so unfair."

He sent Prussia a sharp look, which would have shredded him to bits had his eyes been actual blades. "No. I can't even imagine the damage you might have caused if you three hadn't been prudent enough to come home before dawn and I don't want to. Never again." His point made, Germany stalked into an equally trashed kitchen.

The remaining two nations sent their friend sympathetic looks while he suclked like a child. "West is so uptight man."

"Qui," France agreed before smiling thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should include him next time? At least then we would have a designated driver."

Prussia snorted and waved the idea off. "If you think I'm bad on tequila and vodka, you see West on some fucking lager."

**End**

I am so sorry for the poor quality of the fic, but this is totally my first Hetalia fic and I feel so fail right now. ;-; But! At least I have celebrated the Awesomeness that is Prussia! Hopefully I did him justice and you all enjoyed it.

I also apologize for any spelling and grammatical errors; feel free to point them out so that they can be corrected accordingly. Honestly, I was too busy trying to get this done to really care about all that, but I promise I usually do a better job! (And for those who are unsure, this really is a songfic. Sorry for my wonky way of doing them.)

**Reviews save lives. They also help pay damages on public property and sexual harassment suits.**


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